Philly's Finest

Beanie Sigel

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    (mixed and scratched sample)
    P-H-I-L-L-Y, North, West, Southwest South side
    P-H-I-L-L-Y, Give it to them bitches and niggas who stay fly
    [Verse 1 - Beanie]
    You know my flavor
    Low linen double s gators
    Jeans ripped on purpose
    Moure written in cursive
    Tool shirt with the belt to match
    Four pound send shots through your Celtics cap
    You know me, B. Sigel with that lethal spit
    Fuck around and get your people hit
    Tek 22 see through clip
    Niggas know who I creep through with
    Major niggas, you know, Major Figgas
    I roll them corners and drop four birds with four words
    Niggas get the flippin
    Before niggas get the missin
    I'm known for that duct tape, rope and pistol whippin
    Back door, dope and coke from when boat ship in
    It ain't no tellin what I do for a trunk of crack
    Told y'all dudes that I'm quick to trunk a cat
    You know my tools, either the pump or the mac
    Catch me at your kids school playin Uncle Mac

    [Verse 2 - Journ]
    Yo what you think I couldn't shine on you cause your chain glistenin?
    When they said the name Journalist you wasn't listenin
    Change the condition of the Range that you sittin in
    Pull out the pistol in, shoot out your Michelins
    Leave you in your boy Rover with a poor odor
    Journ, slim bulldozer with the broad shoulders
    Week into your tour I'ma call your broad over
    Before she hit the salon, bustin the whore rollers
    You tryin to play the fast role
    Dawg you an ass hole
    Your chick gave me your cock, cigar and your bath robe
    Test the circle, beat you till your purple
    Then have my man search you from your hat to your workboots
    Fam fuck you and the cats that co signed you
    Catch you while you on your Ducotti and clothesline you
    Tryin to cop a spot like the one they shot Tony in
    Journalist for Doo Wop, the true Mitronian

    [Bridge - Dutch]
    P-H-I-L-L-Y
    Why should we tell y'all why?
    Where why and how we ride?
    P-H-I-L-L-Y

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    [Verse 3 - Gillie]
    A'yo rap cancer, flow sick I flow iller
    My goal is to move more units than Thriller
    Its G-D-K slash God damn killer
    slash Gillie Da Kid
    Nigga can I live?
    Guns keep, never get rid
    Did a minor bid
    Only for one week
    A Thug let his gun speak
    Real player, never fall in love with a freak
    My raps is like crack, I distribute to the street
    O's in the form of flows, China Whyte
    You say I'm okay, your chick think I'm dynamite
    She love my flow, she love my clothes
    When it come to them, I'm like Snoop "I don't love them hoes"
    See my niggas cop cars, watch flooded with stones
    Knowin that my voice'll probly sell a million alone
    Nigga bout robbin Gillie? Un uh, pullin the chrome
    Aimin straight at your face then I'm killin you holmes

    [Verse 4 - Dutch]
    MF it don't get no realer than that
    See the jails got my niggas I'm takin em back
    Serve em out for any smoker who got taste for the crack
    I'm takin it all, whether its a safe or a pack
    I'm layin you down, whether its a eight or a mac
    See I love to bust guns, but I hated the sound
    and I muzzled em up dawg just to quiet em down
    Where my West coast niggas at? Shots to the ground
    Where my East coast niggas at? Safes's and pounds
    I got, pimp in my walk nigga, pimp in my talk
    Dawg I bust you niggas first before my players fall
    I'm already called it quits, don't want it in no more
    Put the gun to my head, blaow say fuck it all
    You can't get no women player, they don't want a war
    You can't sell no cane dawg, you too damn soft
    Me I sell it all player, from the hard to soft
    You just a boss player, tryin'a roll with boss

    [Bridge]

    [Verse 5 - Bump]
    Seems like you don't know how much life is left
    Till I revolve six in your chest
    start at your vest
    Send you into cardiac arrest
    chokin, weezin
    What gave you the idea that Bump wasn't squeezin
    Bump ain't packin? Bump ain't holdin?
    Bump won't put it in your face leave it swolen?
    Do it for the paper, yeah players hate my hustle
    Young nigga, chrome 38 I hate to tussle
    Six hundred platinum skates from the muscle
    Keep work on the strip, shit I live to the hustle
    Step my game up to a bird from a bundle
    Football shit, cook wrong nigga fumble
    Blocks on the shoes, twelve on the wheel
    Cris till I spit in the club with the steel
    I hope you niggas thinkin Bump J won't kill
    You be dead on arrival
    Nigga no survival

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